She Is Everything
by chisles
Summary: You met her through a black-eye, but honestly, you don't mind. - Rizzoli and Isles high school au, Jane's pov.


_This is just something that I wanted to write. I'm a sucker for high school aus, I must say. From Jane's pov. Jane is a senior while Maura is a sophomore (or it can be whatever you want it to be, I'm not picky)._

_Also, I suck at titles so there's that._

_Disclaimer: Don't own these characters, not making this for profit, blah, blah, blah._

* * *

You suppose she could be called a damsel in distress. She called and you answered, only to find her being tormented by the dreadful dragon. You came in like her white knight and slain the beast, getting suspended from school and a black eye at the same time.

You don't mind, though. It was worth it to punch Joseph Grant in the nose because he'd been making fun of her. You'd been looking for a reason to punch him, anyway.

She came to your house in person, to apologize.

"I really didn't mean to get you suspended," she said.

"I was the one who punched him, all right? You did nothing wrong."

"JANE? Who's at the door?"

"No one, Ma!" You had looked at her. "Look, don't worry about it. I'm used to getting suspended."

"I just want to say thank you," Maura had said, looking quite exasperated. "So, thank you."

She came to your house in person, to say thank you. And that really doesn't click until she's walking away from you, her heels tapping on the ground.

So you run after her as she leaves, ignoring the really expensive car that's blocking your driveway and obviously waiting for her.

"Wait!" She turns to look at you and you pretend you don't see the tears glistening in her hazel eyes. "I'm Jane."

Your hand is outstretched and you feel ten feet tall, but she grabs it. She feels small and vulnerable, but you know that she's not. You know because she would've been fine with Joey Grant had you not stepped in. Joey'd never punch a girl (except you).

"Maura," she says, by way of introduction, and you find yourself going over to her house everyday after school that week. She helps you study (you've gotten three As on tests, so far) and you slowly teach her how to play video games.

And when she learns that you play chess, she looks so excited that you don't tell her you haven't played since you were little. You haven't played because you used to play with your dad, but your dad left some time ago. Her chessboard looks like it costs more that all of your belongings and its heaven.

You play everyday after school.

Today, you can't focus. Not when her look of absolute concentration is so captivating you can't help but stare. And you're not surprised at all when she moves a piece and claps her hands.

"Check mate," she declares triumphantly, and you know there must be a mistake. You would've seen it – you would've done something differently…

"Shit."

You don't give her the satisfaction of winning, quickly setting up the board again. You try to ignore her playful smirk and in the back of your mind you remember this being a good idea.

"Jane."

You don't answer. Focus, Rizzoli. The pawns go here and –

"You lost," she says simply. That's when you know you're caught. You're sitting in your underwear and a tank top. The only thing you have left is the sports bra underneath. You're not sure you want to cross that line yet.

"So?" You stare at her. Act like you forgot. How could you forget the fact that Maura's dress lies in a discarded pile (delicately folded) off to the side?

It was her idea to play strip chess. It had seemed a little weird, but at that point you had been confident that you'd win the little tournament that had been going on for hours.

She doesn't say anything, only smirks as you groan and pull off your tank. You throw it towards Maura's couch, only because you know it'll irritate the hell out of her if you don't fold it. To her credit, she only makes a small noise before looking down at the board. It's your turn to go first.

You make the move.

It's half an hour later when you're caught. You know that you're going to lose, but you don't know if she knows. You take a chance.

"How about we go to sleep, Maur," you say, as you stretch your arms above your head. Your eyes are closed and you miss the way that hers are raking over your muscles. After some badgering, she eventually agrees, after admitting that she knows you're going to lose. You grab your shorts as you get up, then head to the kitchen to grab another coke.

The clock reads 1:15am.

Maura comes in a few moments later, now wearing her pajamas. She leans on the counter and sits there in silence.

You have your back to her. You don't really hear her when she crosses the kitchen, but soon you feel her breath on your back. You don't remember glimpsing her sip some wine, because she usually does on nights like this. It isn't alcohol that's making her trail her fingers along your spine.

You've never had a sip of alcohol in your life.

So you can't call it a drunken mistake when you spin around and look at her. You're not sure you want to. Her eyes rise towards yours slowly.

You know what you're about to do isn't what best friends do.

You kiss her anyway.

Somewhere along the line you stopped kissing and made it to the bedroom. She's in your arms and you didn't bother putting your shirt back on. Her room feels too big and the house feels too empty, but you feel at home holding her. It's different from the other time's you've shared a bed. Usually you're half slung over the side and so close to falling off that sometimes you actually do. She most often curls up in a ball with her back against the wall.

Now, her breath is hot on the side of your neck, and you can feel the comfortable pressure of her body against yours. You don't know what this means, but you honestly don't care.

She falls fast asleep.

Soon enough, you're asleep, too.

When you wake up, she's gone. You feel like you dreamt the whole thing. You feel like it was a mistake – if it even happened.

But then she walks in, and every flicker of doubt that ever crossed your mind disappears. She smiles at you and you don't even care that you're practically naked, which is something new. She's holding something and you quickly realize that it's your tank top. You smile sheepishly and pull it on, until you feel her grab your hand and pull you out of the room.

Breakfast is on the table, and you don't know what to say because you didn't know that she could cook. You always assumed she had someone do it for her.

"This looks amazing," you tell her, and she doesn't let go of your hand. She looks uncertain, and she's trying to read your face.

You know what she's going to ask.

So you answer it. "You're amazing," you whisper, and the smile that breaks onto her face is worth it. And then she's pushing onto her tiptoes and kissing you and her hands are in your hair. When she pulls back, she doesn't leave. You can feel her breath on your lips and you press against them again.

"We should eat," you whisper, and your voice is way huskier than it usually is.

She nods and steps away from you and you try to ignore the faint flush on her cheeks. Instead, you focus on the plates of food. And you eat the plates of food, playing with your food until she can't breathe because she's laughing too hard. You're doing what you do best; you're doing what you love.

And she's happy.

* * *

The weekend lives up to its name and it ends. You've both been blissfully ignorant of the outside world and you find that you don't care. Neither of you have talked because you're afraid of what might be said. You're afraid of what you might say.

You used to be mad at her parents for being gone so much, but now it feels like a blessing. Your head is in her lap and she's running her fingers through your hair, while the two of you watch a documentary about elephants. You hate to admit that you fell asleep a few times, but it's entirely her fault. It's her fault because the sweet pressure of her fingers in your hair makes you drowsy.

It's late and you have to leave.

"So," she starts, and you can feel where this is heading. "Am I your girlfriend now?"

"I don't know," you say truthfully. "Do you want to be?"

She stares at you, and you feel like your being dissected underneath her gaze. "Do you want me to be?"

You haven't thought about it. You've told yourself that you'll go along with whatever she wants, but you haven't really thought about it for yourself.

You like holding her and kissing her. That's what you know.

She lets out a sigh of relief and you realize that you said that last part out loud. "We don't have to make it more than it is," she says.

You believe her. It also occurs to you that even though she's a year younger, she'll always be wiser than you, it seems.

"It's not a big deal," she rambles, trying not to scare you off. You know she does this when she's nervous. "We can keep the kissing and the, uh, holding?" She pauses and you nod slightly, urging her to keep going because you don't have anything better to say. "We're best friends, Jane."

You step forward and wrap your arms around her and she relaxes in your hold immediately. "I know, Maura." You press a kiss to the top of her head and mumble your goodbyes and then you leave.

You sit in your car longer than necessary and think about the tingle in your lips when they're on hers.


End file.
